Pickaxes hit the ground, JCBs clawed at the earth and the bustle of traffic could just be heard outside of the construction yard in the centre of Birmingham, United Kingdom, where it all seemed just like a normal day. The skies were typically overcast with grey, and the schedule for the building workers was as busy as ever - and it would have remained so hadn’t John, an experienced, middle-aged builder, suddenly hit a certain metal object with his shovel.

“Hey, Dave,” he murmured as he pulled the spade from the gravel and thrust it down again, hearing another ‘clang’, “I think I’ve found something!”

Dave, his work colleague and friend for the past five years trotted over, “What is it, John?”

John forced the shovel into the ground a couple more times, each time hearing the same metallic clang; “I thought there were no pipelines round here.”

“Don’t sound like any pipe I’ve ever struck before…” Dave murmured, before he hastened to add, “Not that I have struck any…”

Dave had a point, though - the metallic resonation John’s tool made with the hidden object was strange - it was unlike the ‘clang’ from any type of metal he’d ever heard before. It had an almost alien quality to it…

“Come on, let’s dig it up,” Dave then added, putting all hesitations aside, “It’s in our way as it is…”

Together, the two began frantically digging, and soon several of their comrades had joined in, too, until, seeing the light of day for the first time, they unearthed the carved, metal lid of some hidden contrivance.

“Oh my God…” Dave muttered as he stared at the cylindrical cover, several times the size of your average manhole, “What is it?”

“Looks like some kind of ancient artefact or something…” John replied.

“Yeah…” another worker, Clive, agreed.

The giant cylinder seemed to be of a strange, dull gold hue, one that shone a greeny-black in the light; it’s lid was carved with some beastly face, looking like that of a dragon, with weird inscriptions etched all about the circumference of the lid.

“Well, we might as well open it,” shrugged Tony, stood to their left, “Who knows what’s inside?”

“Yeah!” Clive exclaimed, “It could make us rich!” He rushed to the container and gripped its lid, heaving with all his strength - but the cap was determined not to budge. Even when ten of the construction crew rallied to the task, there wasn’t even a creak suggesting the cover was going to give way.

John and Dave exchanged glances; “This is no use,” Dave sighed.

John’s eyes looked up into the sky; “Let’s get a crane in here,” he said.

The team busied about and quickly attached the canister lid to their largest and most powerful crane, before John, testing the winch was properly attached with his foot, then signalled to the crane driver and shouted, “Okay, take it up!”

After several tense minutes, with the winch creaking and straining, the canister lid finally made a budge and, with a tremendous groan, came free. Great waves of fog spewed out from the cylinder as the lid was lifted away and all of the construction crew backed away, covering their mouths and coughing in the stench of the strange, gaseous air…

The smog settled a little and began to gently creep away across the construction yard; the crew, meanwhile, stared into the centre of the mist and waited with baited breath for something to happen. There was a silence so tense in the air and an aura so chilling that no one dared speak or move - all they suddenly knew was that their actions had been a big mistake.

Yet nothing happened.

John began to grow tired of the tension; his legs were shaking and his throat dry, but he had to do something - he had to bring an end to this torturous lag in time. Slowly, he began to step back toward the buried canister, the gravel crumbling beneath his feet and the mist swirling up to his knees. As he neared the cylinder, he looked down into the thick, black void within - he could see nothing in there - but then again, he couldn’t even see the bottom…

Frowning, he lowered himself to his haunches and leant down over the cavity, peering into the gloom with a curiosity that was only natural to the human species.

The rest of the workers watched John warily, glued to the spot with a strange fear.

Suddenly, there was a great ‘SPLOSH’ sound. The entire crew jumped back in surprise, gasping. John’s body dropped lifeless by the canister’s side before his head then came rolling down the mound to Dave’s feet.

Dave screamed and the rest of the crew looked around, trying to find their feet in panic; from out of the canister, a glaring blast of red light rose and zoomed round the yard, until it manifested itself into a giant, winged creature. The bipedal beast landed with a chorus of clinks and clangs, his entire body coated in a golden armour; his eyes shone a fearsome red, his face was coated with blue fur and shaped like a dog’s and his neck was swathed with a great, black mane. He held a long sword in his palm, and a line of sharp, little teeth revealed themselves from beneath his lips as he grinned; “Humans…” he mused, “It could only be humans.”

No one in the enclosure knew what to do - stood right before them was a giant, sentient canine with huge wings, armour and a sword! It wasn’t the first thing you’d expect to pop out of an ancient canister in the ground.

But that wasn’t all…

Suddenly, four other balls of light soared out of the cylinder, each materialising in a different spot across the yard; a white sphere became what first looked like a sturdy goat on its hind legs, dressed in blue overalls with a pair of spectacles on its nose. Following this, two orbs of blue became an oversized, lanky chimp and a stumpy blue-skinned creature that looked something like a troll from out of a fairy tale book - except for the fact it had a ring through its nose.

Finally, the one remaining electrical orb exploded into… a woman.

The men stared at her in awe, mouths gaping, completely enraptured by her - she was beautiful and enchanting, and once they set their eyes on her, they couldn’t bring themselves to draw them away, but even though her general visage and form were completely human, she still struck one as being alien. She wore a brown gown gilded with golden embroidery; her silvery hair was held up in a pair of cones, and a giant black collar stood out around her neck.

She looked at the men around her at first with curiosity, as she got her bearings, but that soon turned to hilarity and she smiled at them with all the haughtiness she could muster; “Where are we, Goldar?” she asked.

The giant, winged creature responded with a subservient nod, “From what I can deduce, Planet Earth, my queen.”

She snuffed in contempt, “Earth? I thought the Earth and its people were uncivilised.”

“They were, my queen,” Goldar nodded, “At least they were before we were imprisoned in that Zithium cylinder.”

She nodded slowly, thinking things over, “What makes you say this is Earth?”

“It’s the air… the very atmosphere,” Goldar answered, “I can smell no magic, and the essence of the Morphin Grid feels weak here… I believe that is due to the fact that it has nothing in which to manifest itself. The human race was legendary amongst others as one the Gods shaped without any magical potency or connection to the ‘Grid. Look at them, my queen - do they strike you as magical beasts?”

She smirked coldly again, “No… not at all,“ she admitted, turning to her second-in-command; “They could be useful for the Emperor… he’s always looking for simpletons to make up his labour force.”

Goldar grinned again, his ruby eyes passing over the crowd with villainous anticipation. They were all listening to the two conversing, all still frozen with alarm, horror and disbelief; “This planet might be an easy conquest,” he added, “It would be the perfect little gift to present his lordship with, to repay him for our absence.”

“Yes,” the lady nodded, “Providing he approves… he may have other uses for us…”

“Then we must contact him and ask him what is his pleasure.”

“How?”

“My Queen,” the white goat interrupted suddenly, “I could make up a device in no time, if I can find the right resources…”

Goldar nodded, “Yes…that would be useful, Finster.” He pointed to the machines in the yard, “Could you use anything from what these humans have built?”

“Of course, Goldar - I can make most things from out of nothing.”

Goldar laughed, “I know.”

“And what are we to do with these humans, oh queen?” the gangly simian now spoke, trotting over to the lady and gibbering like an infant.

“Yes, empress!” the squat troll snorted, “They have heard our plans already…”

“But they’re not exactly dangerous,” Goldar remarked, pointing to the severed head on the ground, “Or intelligent, it would seem...”

“Still,” the mysterious lady pondered, “I’m sure the Emperor would want us to be better safe than sorry.” She nodded to Goldar, “Destroy them.”

All the workers backed up, their legs trembling and their hearts racing, as the giant wolf plodded toward them all, sword gleaming in his hand, still soiled with John‘s blood; “Yes, my Empress…” he growled.

* * * *

Meanwhile, across the world, in the city of Angel Grove, United States, two young men were practising their martial arts skills at their local Youth Centre. Behind the bar, Ernie sat watching the TV, drying out several of the glasses - he ran the Youth Centre and was a good friend of all the kids who used it. He was a rather tubby man, who always wore bright shirts, and was renowned for both his generosity and his oodles of personality.

Suddenly, the coverage of the baseball match he’d been watching was cut off and a news flash dominated the screen.

Ernie frowned and placed down his glass, watching with interest.

“Where is this?” asked Jason, a white youth with dark hair and a robust build.

“Birmingham, United Kingdom,” Ernie replied.

“Man,” Zack sighed, “How weird is that?”

“Never mind weird,” Jason mused, “It’s scary - if it’s not a terrorist strike, then what is it?”

“Well, I bet someone knows something - they’re just not telling us” Ernie insisted, “Their version of the FBI will be onto it, I bet.”

Jason exchanged glances with Zack; he just shrugged in return, completely clueless.

* * * *

The sky was red over the Emperor’s fortress at Dracona on Nim. Sekhmet, a young, female Nimian, sat back in the castle’s control room, typing up a few reports for her intergalactic master. She had the typical pallid complexion of her kind, as well as the claws, the pointed ears, the feline pupils and the sharp teeth; her hair was long, dark and black, whilst her eyes were of a vivid orange hue.

Suddenly, one of the communication units began bleeping. She looked up from her work, her sharp eyes zeroing in on the console; “If that’s Vile again…” she sighed, getting to her tridactyl feet and mooching over to the unit; she keyed in a few commands and watched as, suddenly, a long message flickered up onto the screen; her eyes swiftly skimmed the message and she gaped in surprise, “Well, would you believe it?” she muttered.

She quickly printed out a copy of the message and rushed out of the room.

In the gigantic construction yards, hidden in the bowels of the Dracona city, directly below the royal fortress, Sekhmet hurried with her printout to find the Emperor himself. She walked along a causeway suspended high above the main yards below, the cavernous walls around her lit with the red and oranges glows of molten ores, and flashing with the whites and blue glares of the metal welding process. The noise was incredible as cranes hoisted and saws cried, and it took her some time to find her overlord; he was stood in the far east of the subterranean yard, overlooking the creation of one of many of the machines that would eventually join his army - it would just seem that this one was holding his interest more than any of the others.

Sekhmet dropped to her knees behind him, “My lord,” she bowed subserviently.

The Emperor turned to her, overshadowed by the low hanging ceiling above him; “Yes, my dear?” he asked.

She returned to her feet and said, “A message has just reached us from planet Earth.”

He made no move, but the news obviously struck him as bizarre; “Earth?” he muttered, “But I have no forces anywhere near that worthless wasteland.”

“The message comes from Rita Repulsa, m’lord,” she added.

The Emperor emerged from his dark alcove and took the piece of paper from her hand, scanning it with his hidden gaze; Sekhmet looked only downwards, fiddling with her fingers as she waited, fearful in his presence.

He cocked his head a little and nodded, “Well, it would seem that she is finally free…” He shrugged, “Give them leave to conquer that planet… it shouldn’t take them long. Also tell her that there exists an old fortress on that planet‘s satellite that I conquered from the Druids of M51 long ago - she can use that as her base.” He wafted his hand to her, “That is all.”

Sekhmet swiftly bowed and left.